


AU One-Shots

by truth_renowned



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: A series of AU unrelated one-shots based on tumblr prompts.





	1. In which Dooley lives and peggysous reigns

Peggy looked up from her desk as she heard Dooley’s office door open, the chief stepping into the doorway and surveying the bullpen. All agents stood up behind their desks, soldiers at attention for their commanding officer. It was something Dooley never required but every agent knew he deserved.

“Just got a call from Chief Thompson in L.A.,” Dooley said.

Agent Chuck Andrews chuckled. Peggy thought Andrews had the voice of an operatic tenor; it was too bad the only things that came out of his mouth were idiotic statements. He was in his forties, always dressed in a dark suit and the ugliest ties Peggy had ever seen, and sported jet-black hair that very obviously did not belong naturally on his head. 

“Big Chief Jack in Tinseltown,” Andrews said. “He call from poolside with a starlet on each arm?”

Dooley ignored the comment. “He’s short-staffed and needs a hand with a doozy of a case. Something about a woman in a frozen lake.” He pointed to Daniel. “Sousa, pack your bags. You’re going to Hollywood.”

Snickers echoed through the bullpen, the most bombastic from Andrews.

Peggy cleared her throat. “Sir, is that the wisest decision?”

Dooley’s expression remained flat but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Are you bucking my authority?” The corner of his mouth curled up into an angry sneer. “What am I saying, you’re making a career of it. What faults are you finding with me today, Carter?”

Without a hint of nervousness, she straightened her suit jacket, then lifted her chin. “No offense to you, Chief, but is one agent enough? As you mentioned, the case is a ‘doozy’.”

“You think Sousa can’t handle it?” Dooley asked.

She shot a quick glance to Daniel, who looked both hurt and curious.

“Not at all,” Peggy responded. “I’m just pointing out that Chief Thompson is a very prideful man and wouldn’t have asked for help unless he really needed it.”

Peggy watched the fire extinguish in Dooley’s eyes, replaced by… was that amusement?

Dooley pointed at her, his finger tapping air a few times. “You know what, Carter. You’re right. You just earned yourself a ticket out west with Sousa. Wheels up in two hours. Get moving.”

Dooley stepped back inside his office and roughly closed the door, the blinds rattling against the glass.

“Hey, Sousa,” Andrews said, “lots of desperate dames in Hollywood. Maybe you can get lucky.”

More snickers from the peanut gallery. Peggy didn’t need to look at Daniel to know he was wearing a smirk dripping with disdain.

“Oh, and Carter?” Andrews continued. “I heard they record that Captain America radio show there. Maybe you can say ‘hello’ to yourself.”

Even more guffaws, which made Andrews preen like a peacock.

“And I heard,” Peggy chimed in, her gaze drilling through Andrews, “that many of the male movie stars wear toupees. Perhaps I could pick up a decent one for you.”

She walked past the other agents, her heel clicks mixing with the loudest laughter of the day.

\--------------

Peggy ran up the steps of the plane, quickly storing her duffel on the overhead shelf. She sat heavily on the aisle seat next to Daniel.

“Just made it,” he said. “You want the window?”

“No. Aisle is fine.”

She sighed, then turned to Daniel. He leaned toward her, his lips lightly grazing hers.

“That was sneaky, what you did with Dooley,” Daniel said. 

“I was serious. Jack is obstinate and it probably killed him to ask for help. Besides, you and Jack fight like cats and dogs. I thought you might need a referee.”

“Not to mention, you get a free trip to nicer weather with me.”

She smiled as she took his hand in hers. “That, too.”

A stewardess slowly walked by, nodding politely at them and asking if they needed anything. They both declined, and the woman moved on her way.

“You think Thompson will figure it out?” Daniel asked.

“The case? I doubt it since he’s asked for help.”

“I didn’t mean the case.” 

“Ah.” She smiled. “He might and he might not. I’d say we have been successful at keeping our relationship a secret with the other agents. I’m sure we can do the same with Jack. Though, honestly, it really doesn’t matter.”

“He could create problems with Dooley for us.”

She thought back to her time with Thompson in Russia, their discussion on the airplane. “He won’t. Besides, Dooley already knows about us.”

Daniel’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. “You told him?”

“No! Of course not. I didn’t have to. Chief has a nose like a bloodhound. Most of the men in the office are as bright as a bug zapper when it comes to things like that, but Dooley knows exactly what’s going on.”

“But if he knows, why hasn’t he reprimanded us?”

“Because we are his best agents,” she responded, “and together we’re the best the SSR has to offer. As long as it doesn’t affect the job, I doubt he gives a flying fig.”

Daniel laughed lightly. “Smart, sneaky and sexy. Three reasons why I love you.”

“Only three,” she teased, kissing his cheek, then leaning her head against the chair back. 

The plane’s propellers started, the loud rumbling filling the cabin. Daniel squeezed her hand, and she glanced over at him, questioning. He shrugged, an invitation, and she took it, laying her head on his shoulder.

As the airplane moved forward, Peggy shut her eyes. For some reason, her gut told her they were about to fly into the adventure of a lifetime.


	2. In which Dooley lives and he and Jack are pirates (kind of)

“I feel ridiculous, Chief,” Thompson says through gritted teeth. 

You and me both, kid. 

I know I look ridiculous, though not as bad as Thompson. His frilly shirt is the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages. He’s wearing tight pants and knee-high boots, which is something I could have lived my whole life without seeing. At least his vest is long enough to cover what needs to be covered. It’s my fault he’s wearing them. I called the long pirate coat and lace-up shirt the minute I saw them. Suit pants’ll have to do; no way you’re getting me into those glorified tights.

This whole thing was Carter’s idea. According to her informant, this shindig is the biggest party of the year for the movers and shakers in the New York construction business scene. It’s also a sure bet for mafia kingpin Tony Carrozza and his new friend to be here. Thompson and I are playing legit construction guys from Chicago, and Carter’s here to find herself a mafia boyfriend. As it turns out, Sousa’s a master at accents, so he’s pretending to be from the homeland. He even speaks Italian. Who knew?

This fucking hat is driving me nuts. If that feather doesn’t stop hitting me in the eye, it’s gone. Of course this had to be a costume party on Halloween. Why couldn’t it be a cocktail party or something, anything where I don’t have to dress up like an idiot and wear a hat with a fucking feather in it?

This better be worth it.

“This better be worth it,” Thompson says with a sigh.

“Carter says Carrozza will be here meeting with whoever has those stolen weapons. I don’t like this anymore than you do, but it’s our best tip.”

“Since when do you listen to Carter?”

“Since she has the best intel,” says a crisp British voice behind us.

I turn around and see...

Mary, mother of God.

Carter’s tits are… yes, they are. In all their glory. I knew she had a wench costume but I didn’t know she’d be on display so… unobstructed. 

It pains me to look away. Glancing at Thompson, I see he’s more mesmerized than me. I give him an elbow and he snaps to attention.

“You better be right about this,” I say, looking Carter square in the eye, tipping my hat to keep up the ruse of meeting strangers at a party. “These stupid costumes are costing me a fortune.”

“Not to mention our dignity,” Thompson mumbles.

Carter gives us a sly smile and a tilt of her head. “It’s no prize for me, either. While I detest the idea of the extreme brevity of this frock, I do intend to use it to my advantage with Nicky Patera.”

“Who cares about this Patera guy?” Thompson asks, an unmistakable air of superiority in his voice. “We’re here for Carrozza.”

Carter’s eyebrow shoots up and she skewers Thompson with a look that could kill.

“Nicholas ‘Nicky’ Patera is Tony Carrozza’s bodyguard. He’s also his cousin on his mother’s side. They grew up together, living next door to each other in Little Italy. Carrozza goes nowhere without him, and Nicky makes it nearly impossible to get close to his cousin. However, Nicky has a weakness: Brunettes who are… shall we say… well endowed and loose with their morals. He can’t resist them, even to the detriment of his job. Once the suspect is with Carrozza, I intend on enticing Nicky, grabbing his attention long enough for you and the chief to get close and listen in.”

Thompson looks part surprised, part skeptical. “How do you know all that about the bodyguard?”

“It’s called research, Jack,” she replies with a bright smile. “Perhaps you could try it sometime.”

Damn, that woman has a tongue that could slice through ice-cold butter! I can’t look at Thompson or I’ll bust out laughing. But I know his eyes are narrowed as far as they can go. How can he see through those tiny slits?

“Keep up the act, Thompson,” I remind him. “We don’t know Carter, capiche?”

Carter puts a hand on her ample cleavage, pretending to laugh.

“You have no idea how much I want that to be true,” Thompson says with a dip of his head.

A loud bark of laughter catches all of our attention. Some guy dressed as Blackbeard or something is jovially slapping another guy on the back. And we know the slappee.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Thompson mumbles.

I have to agree. Sousa’s dressed similarly to Thompson but has some additions. He’s wrapped his fake leg in something that looks like wood, even starts wide and narrows down. He’s made a fucking pegleg! And that crutch of his is wrapped in the same wood stuff, making it more of a thick cane than a crutch. None of that was part of the costume. Why am I not surprised? What Sousa lacks in physical capabilities, he more than makes up for in ingenuity. Kid’s already on his way to being a great agent. I underestimated him for too long. Now I know better.

I turn back to Carter and see her looking in Sousa’s direction. She doesn’t look shocked by his costume so she must have known about it. Once again, I’m not surprised. She knows a lot about him, and vice versa. Those two are making the beast with two backs as sure as I’m standing here. Not that it makes a difference. Hell, they could have sex on my desk as long as they keep their solve rate so high. And clean up after themselves.

Sousa looks toward us for a second, gives the slightest of nods, then walks toward Carrozza just ahead of another guy who’s dressed as ridiculously as I am: long coat, lace-up shirt, but that lucky bastard doesn’t have a feather hat. He’s followed by two goons. They’re dressed as pirates but there’s no mistaking the size and ugly mug of a bodyguard.

“Heads up, gentlemen,” Carter says with a curtsy, and I have to look away at the added view it gives us. “I do believe the man who just entered is who we are looking for. I’ve got Patera.”

She walks away, hips swaying widely side to side. She’s not even halfway across the room when she catches Patera’s eye. There’s no mistaking his grin. Carter’s a conquest and he’s up for the challenge. Sousa’s now making small talk with someone, close enough to Patera to cover Carter. Not that she needs backup.

She meets up with Patera, moving to his side and forcing him to turn his back to Carrozza, who has his head together with the new guy.

“Showtime,” I say under my breath. Thompson nods, and we head toward Carrozza. 

If this works, how the hell am I gonna explain to D.C. that we collared a mafia boss and weapons dealer while looking like extras from a Poverty Row flick?

Yo ho ho and I’m gonna need a bottle of rum after this. Maybe two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical notes:
> 
> The Mafia is well known for having legitimate businesses as fronts for their illegal dealings. In New York, one of the biggest industries was construction. Source: <https://www.history.com/topics/crime/mafia-in-the-united-states>
> 
> Poverty Row were a group of B-movie studios in Hollywood. Think Ed Wood but in the 20s through early 50s. Most of the movies were sci-fi and horror, but a bad pirate film wouldn’t be out of the question. Source: <http://www.filmreference.com/encyclopedia/Academy-Awards-Crime-Films/B-Movies-THE-Bs-OF-POVERTY-ROW.html>
> 
> “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum” is part of the lyrics from the song “Dead Man’s Chest” from Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. I have no doubt Dooley would have read it. Source: <http://www.literaturepage.com/read/treasureisland-190.html>


End file.
